


Dear Journal

by darlingDesires



Category: Nomad of Nowhere (Web Series)
Genre: Skout goes through the Nomad's diary, also a test to get a feel for writing NoN characters, because i love backstory, lil bit of backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 06:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingDesires/pseuds/darlingDesires
Summary: “Guess I’m grateful for the chance to prove myself useful, though. I mean, I du’no what it is about this place but I feel like I’m reeaaally close to findin’ the Nomad! That’ll show them I’m not just a dumb spitoon girl. I’m a dumb spitoon girl, and an adventurer.” Skout kicked a pebble to prove a point. She stayed seated for a minute longer before pushing herself up and hoisting the backpack over her shoulders, turning to the side to catch glimpse of…"Oh. My. Stars. An old house!" Skout whispered to herself, grinning and practically jumping out of her boots. "I bet this is where the Nomad lives!”





	Dear Journal

**Author's Note:**

> Ok ok ok but what if
> 
> Instead of meeting the Nomad first, Skout found the house, and decided to go through his things to find anything to give her an edge.

     The briar patch was thick and difficult to navigate with the large backpack hefted upon Skout’s back. The nimble girl scurried above and below thick vines, careful not to snag her pack on the thorns decorating the bramble.

     “It sure is tough adventurin’ on my own… I wish Toth came with,” Skout monologued, seating herself on a rock and dropping the backpack to the side. She sighed, letting her head fall back. “But she  _ said _ for all us to split up, so I guess it’s alright. She wouldn’t let me alone if she didn’t think I could handle it, right?”

     “Guess I’m grateful for the chance to prove myself useful, though. I mean, I du’no what it is about this place but I feel like I’m  _ reeaaally  _ close to findin’ the Nomad! That’ll show them I’m  _ not _ just a dumb spitoon girl. I’m a dumb spitoon girl,  _ and _ an adventurer.” Skout kicked a pebble to prove a point. She stayed seated for a minute longer before pushing herself up and hoisting the backpack over her shoulders, turning to the side to catch glimpse of…

     "Oh. My. Stars. An old house!" Skout whispered to herself, grinning and practically jumping out of her boots. "I bet this is where the Nomad lives!”

     She jogged forward, then slowed to a walk, looking side to side with a new air of caution.  _ What if the Nomad's here? _

     At that thought, Skout reached into her bag, arming herself with a knife (held as if it was a conductor’s baton). Whether or not she was armed didn't matter, though, she soon discovered that the house was empty. “Guess nobody’s home.”

     Naturally, Skout did what anyone would do if they'd found the possible residence of the dreaded Nomad of Nowhere--she began looking through the things in the house, and cheered quietly when she stumbled upon a loosely bound journal. Jackpot. “Toth’s gon’a be so happy to see this!"

     Skout unbound the journal and opened the cover, where a pressed flower sat in the first page. She flipped a few more pages, opening the book to the first page with writing in it.

 

\---

 

 

Dear Journal,

I'm only a few days into the "exiled criminal” life and it's already lonely. Nobody seems to live in this thicket I found, which means less people to turn me in, but it sure is empty, and... quiet. But loneliness is a good thing, I have more time to be by myself and hone my talent. Or curse. Still deciding.

 

 

Dear Journal,

While I was waiting for the rain to stop, it finally settled in that I might be here for a long time. I knew it before, but I never fully realized it, I guess. It’s awful depressing, imagining being here alone until I die.

On a different note, I found the  _ perfect _ clearing to make a home in. After I realized I’d need something more permanent than just whatever would provide shelter for the night, I went out looking for locations, and found one. I have no experience with carpentry, but that doesn’t mean I can’t teach myself how to make something sturdy enough to be a home. Right?

If worse comes to worse, I can always use magic to keep it up.

I’ll figure something out.

 

 

Dear Journal,

I did figure something out, in the end! I made myself a lovely little home that I hope will last. I’ll just have to start mapping out this area so I can remember where it is--I’ve already lost it once!

It’s night now, but come morning, I’ll start to explore and try to remember where things are.

 

 

Dear Journal,

Today I discovered a lake. It has lily pads growing on the surface, and even though they’re very small, they look like they’ll soon grow up to be something beautiful. They were growing clustered together and probably stunting each others’ growth, so I was gentle when I spaced them around as I swam. I’m not a nature expert, but I think I read somewhere that plants grow better when they’re given space.

It’s peaceful there, and quiet, and it’s somewhere I can just sit and  _ be. _

What at first seemed like an exile into the bramble has turned into self-discovery! I’ve had lots of time to just breathe and think by myself. I can actually slow down and take the opportunity to look at my surroundings rather than just…  _ busy, busy, busy. Go, go, go. _ It sounds odd, but it’s really a relaxing feeling.

It’s funny, I don’t even miss people anymore. If a person came along, I think I’d just wave and let them be on their way without so much as a conversation.

 

 

Dear Journal,

Today, a  _ woman _ came by with auburn hair and eyes as green as mint. Naturally, I was really excited that there was a person!

Despite my fears (and suspicions), she insisted on staying and talking with me even for a little while. I don't think she knows about the bounty... that, or she doesn't know it's me. Or she doesn't care. Either way, I'm not complaining. There’s another  _ person _ here!

Right now, she's attempting to retrace her steps to find something she lost on the way here, so I have a bit of time to record some thoughts here =)

She wouldn't tell me her name, but just insisted I call her 'friend'. A little odd, but I wasn’t going to push it, since she’s the first person I've met in five years. If I'm counting right. I hope I’m not.

But besides that, unnamed company is just as good as named company, right?

Oh! She’s back. I’ll write more later!

 

 

Dear Journal,

Today, I learned that my friend has a magic all her own. She has the most charming way around things, and her smiles are like the crescent moon. I can’t tell what it is, but it’s almost like when I’m around her, she’s the only thing that exists. Whenever she laughs, there’s the sound of little bells in the air.

...I don’t really think it’s a spell, but there’s definitely something magical about her, something I can’t put my finger on.

 

 

Dear Journal,

Oh Journal, my friend is the best friend that could have come here to stay.

She isn't intimidated or scared by my magic (and also isn’t hunting me), she isn't afraid of danger, and on top of all that, she's just the most darling person you'd ever met with a personality like how caramel tastes. Such a sweetheart, so full of life and wit, and always ready for the next adventure.

And… I don't think I can consider her a "friend" anymore, but I don’t have another name for her. I guess it’ll do? If I ever stop referring to her as that, you’ll know who it is. ‘You’ being future me, in case I ever reread this journal for fun. But either way, I have a feeling I won't be writing to you as often, so please excuse the hiatus.

 

 

Dear Journal,

Hiatus indeed! To be honest, I forgot this journal existed for a while--I placed it somewhere, then forgot about it for three decades. Imagine that!

Friend and I finished mapping out the area a long time ago, and she even put a sign near the unofficial entrance with the threatening words of ‘DO NOT ENTER’. I giggle a little whenever I think about it.

I’ll check in again in another three decades (but probably sooner, haha)

 

 

Dear Journal,

I can't stop crying. Journal, today she passed away, and everything seems so empty again. I don't think I noticed what my magic was doing to me until now, but fifty years have passed since I first met her and I haven't aged a day.

I just want to die. I want time to take its toll on me, but nothing’s happening. I look the same as I did fifty five years ago, and that scares me. I don’t know if I  _ can _ die, naturally… but I'm too afraid to end my own life.

Help me.

 

 

Dear Journal,

"Loneliness is a good thing", I'm sure I did feel that way once, but if I'm counting correctly, I've been here for seventy two years and I just wish I could go back to my life. Everyone I knew is almost certainly dead, and I know this, but I just wish I could go back.

I’ve even stopped writing in you, journal, some days it’s difficult to move my arms.

I almost wish I could stop being magic. If it just stopped, the bounty on my head would go away, and I could talk to people again and live a normal life, even if it isn’t with… her, or my old family and friends, I could still live like normal. Right?

Right?

 

 

Dear Journal,

I'm starting to think people have forgotten about my bounty. I hope so, but I have no way to know without leaving and risking being caught.

I guess I'm just trapped here until somebody finds me, then. What they do with me is up to them at that point.

 

 

Dear Journal,

I've managed to use my magic to conjure up friends from inanimate objects--it’s really simple, I don’t know how I didn’t think of this eighty years ago. The only downside is that these friends don't seem like they can talk. It's okay, though, we play checkers and explore the briar together. It's easier than dealing with being alone, even if they aren't real people.

I almost forget what my voice sounds like. If I saw someone, would I still be able to talk to them?

I wish I could leave. Is there even a bounty on my head anymore? I don't really want to find out.

 

 

Dear Journal,

Journal, it’s been ninety seven years since I’ve first entered this nightmare, and I just miss how things used to be before all of the magic users began disappearing. I miss my old life, and I miss the girl who wouldn't tell me her name, and it's all because

I can't remember what happened, oh god I'm forgetting

My name is

This isn't normal, this isn't how forgetting things is supposed to work, this has to be someone or

It's

The me reading this, you can NOT leave this place. I don't know how much you'll remember, but you can NOT leave, or--or they'll come after you. If you forget how to use magic... the only thing you need to know is to clap your hands. The rest you're fine forgetting, you won't miss much, in fact it will probably do you more good to forget than to keep the knowledge inside.

Take care of this journal. Read it to remind yourself of who you are.

  
  


\---

 

     Skout closed the journal with a quiet 'huh', eyebrows furrowed.  _ That’s why he’s so evil, he’s mad that he forgot. _ When Skout turned around, her eyes met someone else’s, not someone she was familiar with, and certainly not someone she’d come here with.  _ When did he get here?  _ His most distinguishing feature was the wide-brimmed hat, and he seemed confused and slightly humored to see Skout there.

     She held out the knife towards him, putting on the most threatening voice she could manage. “Don’t move!”

     The stranger just looked at the knife, then back at her. He didn’t seem intimidated at all. Skout fished through a pocket in her bag until she pulled the ‘wanted’ poster out, comparing the man she’d run into to the sketchy portrait.

     “Do me a favor; try to look a smidge more intimidatin’ for a second?”


End file.
